Do the right thing
by TequeezzyBoBeezy
Summary: Wanna know what really happens when Elliot and Olivia cross that line? It isn't as lovely as you'd like. Their partnership does hang in the balance.
1. Bliss

**I'm excited about this fic here, because this will be my first story set before Elliot's departure. I think it will be good but I'm making NO PROMISES. I'm gonna say this takes place in season eleven after episode 21 (ya know, when Elliot's old partner, Jo Marlowe played by Sharon Stone, makes an appearance). Here goes nothing!**

 **Do the right thing**

* * *

 _Knock. Knock_.

He wasn't going to answer it. He couldn't let himself care who it was. He was actually afraid that he would care who it was, then he'd have no choice but to open it. Then they'd see him. Like that. He looked at his texts. No new ones from Kathy. None of his kids had responded yet. "They're probably busy," he thought, "Between school and friends, they don't have room to squeeze me into their schedules." That's what he wanted to believe. Someone on the outside looking in might say that his kids hate him. They could even speculate that his wife hates him. But after all he's done for them, that can't be true. His daughter, Maureen, was thriving as a young lady, and he knew she was going to be very successful. His daughter, Kathleen, found him to be tolerable when her meds were treating her right and when she was taking them. On her off times she was very spiteful and resentful. His daughter, Lizzie, was a normal teenage girl, much like Maureen was, but her twin brother, Dickie, was still distant. It seemed like no matter what, he just couldn't reach that boy. He wanted so much for Dickie to actively acknowledge that his father loved him. He loved all his kids. He thought that all his actions and words showed it. Guess he was wrong, because it all looked so hopeless.

 _Knock. Knock. Knock._

And his wife, man has he put his all into that. He loved Kathy. He truly did. She was his first love. They gave themselves to each other and Elliot found happiness for the first time in his life. They were young when they decided to marry when she got pregnant, but he looked to the future with optimism. He was starting a family of his own and he couldn't wait to do it right. He just wanted to do everything right.

Then he reviewed his text conversation with his partner, Olivia Benson.

" _El, up for takeout?"_

" _Gotta help Kathy with dinner."_

" _Another time, Boyardee."_

In a way, she was his escape. Ironic, though, that he needed an escape from his home life. There was a time when his home life was an escape from his work. Where do you go when you can't go home? It was so easy with Olivia, even through the rough patches. He never had to be afraid that she hated him. Even when she went to Oregon or when she transferred to Computer Crimes he knew it wasn't because she hated him; it was because he was difficult to work with. She gave him that space so he could pull himself together and so she wouldn't be stuck dealing with his crap until she actually did hate him (which, by the way, she never could fathom). In a world with just Olivia everything could operate so smoothly. And he cursed himself for thinking such thoughts. He's married. He's committed. He's the man who does the right thing. And he would never cheat on his wife. He would never jeopardize his partnership and friendship with Olivia. And he would never ever dream of letting it all go to shit. "After a while," he thought, "Kathy will let me back. She'll stop making sorry excuses for why I can't see my own kids. We'll work this out. It always happens." And it did always happen like that. Really, there was nothing to worry about. They'd be back together, but it was a matter of time, and time is something he didn't like to watch pass him by. He's forty-four. He hasn't got all the time in the world and every day without being able to love and protect his children was a hell he didn't like to rot in. It was mainly his kids he ached for. His marriage had gotten to the point where divorce was actually an option. His priority had become his kids and making sure that no matter what happens to his marriage he can always be an active, outstanding father. He didn't want his children going through life without him, without knowing that he loves him and will be there for them.

A new bubble popped up beneath Olivia's last text. It barely got his attention because he put his phone on silent and was so far away in his thoughts that even though he was staring at his phone, it hardly registered to his eye.

" _Come to the door."_

"I know you're in there, Elliot."

He looked at the door through the dark from the cheap sofa he was sitting on across the plain, empty floor. It was her voice coming from behind the door. He trudged over there, unlocked the door, and opened it. He was not standing to the side as an invitation for her to come in, but he wasn't standing in the middle of the door frame as a nonverbal message that he didn't want her to come in.

He was embarrassed and a bit annoyed. He kept secrets because he didn't want anyone to know. That's the whole point of a secret. That's why he didn't talk about his mother. He didn't talk about his marriage. And he didn't talk to her about his father. For all things holy, he needed to keep all those things separate from their friendship. She could never know that he wasn't the man he seemed to be. He didn't want to lose value in her eyes.

"What are you doing here," he asked.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

No answer.

"I don't mean to impose," she said as she let herself by him, "but I needed to see what was so important that my partner couldn't buy me takeout. I followed you here. I don't know, I just had a feeling that my partner has been lying to me."

She pitied him when she saw that he hadn't even bothered to furnish the small apartment. The sofa seated two people but she stood so he could have it to himself—she wanted him to be comfortable and not feel like he's having information squeezed out of him. She waited patiently for him to sit down.

"Sorry there isn't much furniture," he said, very quietly, looking straight ahead at a blank wall, "But you can sit if you want."

She calmly walked over and sat next to him, closer to the arm than to him.

"Why aren't you at home," she asked.

"Kathy and I— we're going through a rough patch right now."

Olivia sighed. She hated when their marriage wasn't perfect for two reasons: she didn't like for him to be so lonely and depressed and she didn't like how it affected his behavior at work. When Kathy leaves, she leaves the discord behind but Olivia has to pick it up every time.

"How long do you think it's gonna take this time."

"I don't know," he said, "I don't know. I just have to wait it out."

She pressed her lips together and breathed in. Elliot heard her slight inhalation and could sense that she was thinking of saying something and wasn't sure how or if she should.

"What," he asked. He was genuinely interested in her opinion and advise, but he was annoyed and angry—mostly at everything—and didn't want to hear what he thought her was about to hear. Still, it's Olivia, his partner, his best friend who has pretty much always stuck by him. Even when he didn't deserve it. Anything she had to say had a certain weight to it. She has insight, she's recognized things about him that he wished she never had. She knew his patterns. She just knew him.

"As a friend and as your partner, Elliot, I think it's time to let this go—"

"Alright," he grunted walking toward the door, opening it wide, "I think I wanna be alone."

She rose and followed him halfway, refusing to leave.

"—before it blows up in your face."

"Liv, I hear ya. That's enough," he said real low, taming his tone and volume.

"You're not listening to me," she said, closing the gap between them, "I have to deal with your crap when this happens and it's gonna keep happening, from what I can see, and I don't only care about you but I know it isn't fair to me or anybody else you come into contact with with your raging emotions you think you can keep down by pretending you can deal with it but really you're just lashing out at everybody who gives a damn and always has your back—"

"Olivia, Olivia—"

"Including me!"

"Enough!"

Her eyes had glossed over and the rage was still evident in her face. He was going to hear everything she had to say, because he owed her that much for sticking with him for through thick and thin, _for better or worse_ for so long.

"I don't need this from you," he said, quiet again.

"And I'm not putting up with your dying marriage for another eleven years," she said, only a little louder than him. She had gotten control over her demanding tears and not one rolled over her bottom eyelid. But she could see Elliot's chest rising and falling dramatically under his NYPD t shirt. There was a shine in his eyes through the darkness. Could it be tears festering? He dropped his hand from the door and shoved both into the pockets of his sweat pants.

"Let yourself out," he whispered.

Then he turned and started toward his bedroom. He heard the door slam behind him and was relieved that that confrontation was over. Now he could be alone and maybe cry if he needed to. But just as he entered his bedroom he heard her voice saying, "For better or worse. What happened to that, huh?" She sounded hurt. She was reaching out to him, she wanted to be there for him and she was hurt that he was rejecting her. She valued their partnership and she didn't want his personal life to make him unbearable. They're stronger together than they are apart. And she couldn't imagine life without him. His turmoil threatened to steal him away from her. She fed off of his happiness. He was her connection to family and happiness. She needed him to be happy.

He sighed really loud, just so she knows he doesn't want to do this right now—ever actually. But he didn't actually object to her prying, because he needed that. She's the only other person he's got and he can't push her completely away. Then, he'd be alone and there would really be nothing to live for. He's tried working without her as his partner. He never wants to endure that again.

He sat down on the edge of his queen-sized bed and hung his head. She stood directly in front of him.

"Talk to me," she said softly.

He contorted his lips in a couple different ways to prepare his mouth to do what it never does—talk about how he feels. He begged himself to do this without breaking down. He felt so much pain. He feared that if he openly admitted to it and spoke about it he'd lose his power to control his emotions. He couldn't be a _pansy_.

"I thought I was doing everything right," he whispered, not giving his voice any volume so it can't break, "I was wrong." He paused to compose himself and choose his next words carefully. "And Eli's so young—I don't want my children growing up hating their father. They can't develop emotionally like that. And, believe me," his voice began to give, "they don't wanna go down that road." When he started to sob he immediately cradled his head in his hands. Olivia was moved to tears. His pain was never his alone. She didn't know what to do. They rarely ever touch. It was like forbidden. She felt uncomfortable touching him comfortingly, as crazy as it sounds. He was in such a vulnerable state and so broken.

She knew she couldn't hug him, hold him. So she placed her hand on his head. Then she let her fingers feel the softness of the short, black strands. She rubbed his head, restraining herself, careful not to squeeze because of the intensity of the emotions in the room. It felt good to him. It was the first time in a long time that a woman's touch was offered to him in response to mutual suffering and was not something he could ever find annoying. And he could hear her sniffling nose above him. She was crying, too. Then she gripped his shoulder with her free hand. And his hands found their way from his head to the backs of her thighs. She stepped in and he pressed his head against her stomach, his crying now down to sniffles. She held him there with both hands. She forced shaky words up past the knot in her throat. "I wish it hadn't come to this." He was just breathing against the smooth fabric of her shirt. He didn't want to leave from this position. He'd have been perfectly content sleeping like that. He felt so safe there. "Are you gonna be okay," she asked. He shook his head against her stomach. "No."

"I can't leave you like this," she whispered.

"I don't want you to leave me," he whispered.

His hands began to rub down then up again on the back of her legs. They were both feeling something very dangerous. Neither of them had the control now to walk away from it. When he shook his head moments ago it had adjusted her shirt. His mouth found some skin above her belt—just by chance. He kissed it. He kissed her there—just by chance. He kissed her. Her eyes filled with water again, but they rolled over this time. She bit her lip because of the ripples of sexual sensation his open mouth had sent shooting up and down her body. His kiss was warm and moist. She loved it. She sucked her whole lip in and bit down, trying to find the will to stop this but it was nowhere to be found. One of his hands was now on her waist. She hoped he couldn't feel her body trembling. When her hand should've been guiding his away from her body, it held onto it as it traveled to the middle of her stomach and underneath her shirt. She didn't want this to happen, but she did. The best she could do to back out now was call his name to get his attention. To maybe snap him out of it. To get him to think, because she couldn't. When she was weak, he was usually strong. Like when he drew a line after Gitano, she expected him to create distance to protect the both of them—not this time.

"Elliot," she whispered in a breathy, shaky, higher-pitched voice.

He just whispered her name back. "Olivia."

Him saying her name like that was powerful. It was so powerful. She threw her head back, her hair dangling underneath. Then he kissed her again, higher up this time. Slowly, sensually, open-mouthed. She whimpered.

"Olivia."

His voice was so low, lower than she'd ever heard it. It vibrated through her stomach and echoed in her body. His warm breath excited her, she got goosebumps everywhere from the hips and up.

"Stay."

Her eyes rolled back and her eyelids fell shut. It was intoxicating. It was like falling into bed after being at the station for days only taking 20-30 minute naps every twelve hours. She couldn't fight this sleep.

"Hmm?"

"Stay with me tonight?"

She didn't answer for two reasons: She didn't know what to say—she was trying to say nothing at all—and she couldn't physically talk without moaning into the room. She felt stuck. Why, how does he do this to her? He ran both hands up her stomach then to her back and to her waist again.

"Yes," he asked, pleaded.

She prayed he wouldn't kiss her again. If he kisses her again there won't be any turning back for her. He did it. An inch or so below her bra she could feel his wet mouth, his warm tongue, his soft lips loving her skin.

A tear dripped down to her ear. This was painful. Everything was on the line. Still, she said yes.

"Yes."

Elliot started on her belt buckle. They were really in this now. She raised her shirt over her head, then ran both of her hands through her hair. It was frustrating. The inability to pull away and the anticipation. She reached down over him and scrunched his shirt till she had the hem in her hands and pulled it over his head. He was sliding her pants down her legs, taking in the whole scene. He couldn't believe he was doing this, knowing what it would mean.

He reached for her anyway, and guided her on top of him. He scooted himself back on the bed, laying down, and she followed, crawling with his body beneath her. She flipped her hair so that it would hang on just the left side of her head. Then, for the first time, their lips met. Her lips were only slightly parted at first but their mouths were soon opening wider to taste more of each other. Their mouths were so foreign to each other but they quickly familiarized themselves and enjoyed how it felt. And they didn't know anything could feel so good _._

He held her right cheek in his palm as they continued to enjoy each other's mouths. There was no sound but the loud air coming from both of their noses. They needed to breathe, but they didn't want to part. After eleven long years leading up to this moment, who needs to breathe? She rested her bottom half against him and was met by his erection waiting patiently beneath her body. He groaned when she unexpectedly moved against his growth. She reactively moaned and broke the kiss, because, thought it had felt like forever and a day so far, they were both clothed where they shouldn't be for this act. And she was flustered from all the touching, and kissing, and excitement. She still couldn't even believe she was feeling this way with Elliot. Despite their job, they hardly talked about sex with themselves as the topic.

She moved over to the side a bit so Elliot could remove his sweatpants. He wasn't wearing boxers. She was immediately met by his penis. Her jaw dropped down a little and her heart picked up in speed. He must've seen her reaction. He told her to come back up to him. Face to face, they looked each other in the eyes for a long, hard moment. In that moment it seemed as though they were both beginning to think, and they were waiting for a window out. That was the window out, regardless of how far they'd gone. That pause was the exit. Olivia kissed him on the cheek, though. Then she moved to his jaw. And in his ear she whispered. "I want this." Then she kissed beneath his ear. She had taken his earlobe into her mouth when he finally slipped his hands under the hem of her panties and slid them down. She worked them down the rest of the way with her legs because she did not want him to move, she wanted him right where he was. He unclasped her bra behind her and he threw it to the floor when it slid down her arms. He wanted to spend time on her breasts just by instinct but it didn't feel like the right thing at that moment. He felt like they were off limits for the time being, because it would've been objectifying and sexualizing her. Ironic, yes.

His hands wandered from her back to her shoulders down to her ass and back again. When she was ready, she pulled her face away from his. Her hands slid to his hard chest and she flipped her hair out of her face. The moment was fast approaching where they would destroy the institution of partnership.

One of his hands stayed on her hip and the other moved down to the front of her. He checked between her legs to see how ready she was. His fingers unintentionally slid over her stimulated clitoris and it sent a visible jolt through her. It turned him on so much to see such a reaction in her. He rose his torso and took her up with him, her breasts in his face. His muscles contracted and relaxed beneath the palms of her hands and it was mesmerizing. He was a powerful man. Elliot held her up over him from under her ass and she reached down to position him beneath her. She was then guided over his head where there was a very small pause. Her muscles tightened around his head as did the muscles in other parts of her body. He needed extra strength not to release himself so prematurely. She placed her hands on his shoulders and gently slid herself further down. Her breathing had become shallow as she conformed to his size. Elliot finally let a breath of air out and it came out with a grunt, because her tightness around him felt so satisfying. It was a task to make himself last for Olivia. He pressed his face into her, smelling her body, breathing her in.

Then he kissed her breast the way he'd kissed her body earlier. He used one hand to massage one breast as he gave the attention of his mouth to the other. She moved rhythmically, slowly. He was going in and out of her core. He was coated with her. Her breathing was becoming more audible and she moaned again when she felt his warm mouth engulf her nipple. Her moan, feminine and promising, made him sweat for her. He lowered himself back down and took hold of her hips. She had obviously gotten comfortable on top of him and had sped up a little, but she was not erratic or rushed. She was simply passionate and the view from below, the feel of her hands now roaming his chest, the heat radiating from her core drove his into a bliss only known to hallucinogen enthusiasts. He wouldn't let himself let go, though, because this may be his only chance to have her in this way and he needed to enjoy the entire ride. Her, on the other hand, she was nearing the edge of glory. Her shallow breaths shortened and became staggered, a precursor to her orgasm.

He caught her spent body in his arms and flipped them over, her on her back and him over her. She was hardly aware of the switch of position because her mind was spinning. But she could feel his proximity and reached for him. He moved over her and into her again and again. She felt as much of his body as she could since she wasn't on top anymore. The muscles in his arms, shoulders, chest, and ass were bulging, as was him inside her. He was hard and throbbing with pressure from all the blood that had suddenly rushed to that one location. How long had it been?

He loved her hands roaming his body. It egged him on. He had himself propped up by his arms on either side of her head and was working away at her center quite ravenously. When he was coming up on his own end he lowed himself onto her. Their bodies were slick with sweat and their connected lower halves felt even better with him directly over her. He hooked one of his arms underneath her neck and the other behind her back. He kissed her on the mouth, the nose, the cheek, the neck. He said things in her ear that made her heart throb for him. He was saying those things to her. He was making love to her. She didn't want to be the sap who cried at the climax of an emotional sexual encounter so she didn't. But she wanted to.

He slowed himself instantly and seemed to stop breathing. But that was followed by three more thrusts. Then they could both feel his release. "Oh, God," he said into her ear when it happened. It wasn't a gruffly, manly _oh_ God but a flustered, relieved _oh God_. He couldn't move and she didn't really want him to. If he moved then their encounter would almost be completely over and they'd be closer to the aftermath. The sooner it ends, the sooner they have to deal with the repercussions. And she was so content like that, everything was perfect. She held one hand on the nape of his neck. The other hand rubbed his strong back. "El."

"Oh, my God."

He said it again, in part because of the waves almost done going through his body and in part because he needed forgiveness. A forgiveness only God could grant him.

"Elliot."

He realized that she was actually trying to get his attention. Her calls had been so soft and still so sexy that he thought she was just saying his name because it was sex. But she wanted to say something.

"Yes," he forced from his throat, still riding out his sex trip.

"I don't— I don't want a new partner, El."

She was fighting not to cry. He could hear it in her voice, feel it in the returned tenseness in her body. He didn't even have to leave her neck to know that she was already thinking. He didn't know what he could say to make her feel better, if there was. But he knew he had to say something to keep her from crying. Because if she started crying, he'd lose it himself.

He kissed her neck then lifted his head. A tear had already trickled down next to her eye. He wiped it away with his thumb then pushed strands of hair from her face. She regained her ability to hold herself together. Her fear was wearing off on him. He was hurting, too. They were afraid of the same thing: each other. He kissed her long and sweet. His lips were pressed against hers and he pulled back to check her eyes. She was getting strong again. He kissed her one more time, this one a peck that lingered a bit.

"Maybe it doesn't have to happen," he offered, "Maybe— we can figure this out." The bullshit was thick, they both knew it and they both went for it. "Yeah," he continued, "we can do this. We'll be okay."

He just wanted to do everything right. She needed him to be happy. He was in such a vulnerable state and so broken. "I can't leave you like this," she whispered. "I don't want you to leave me," he whispered. They were both feeling something very dangerous. Neither of them had the control now to walk away from it. He kissed her. She loved it. Like when he drew a line after Gitano, she expected him to create distance to protect the both of them—not this time. And they didn't know anything could feel so good. The moment was fast approaching where they would destroy the institution of partnership. They were afraid of the same thing: each other.

* * *

 **Well! That turned out better than I expected. It's like freestyling and then the junk comes out like poetry. Beautiful! Of course, there's gonna be more coming because I just really don't know how I feel about one-shots.**

 _ **Happy reviewing!**_


	2. Morning light

**Sorry I've been negligent, guys. You can believe me when I say that I am making an effort to balance fanfiction and real life. I know how it feels to never get an update ;)  
Anyway, I'm freestyling this one again.**

 **Do the right thing**

* * *

Olivia woke up on his bare chest, rising and falling very gently. He had a lock of her hair entangled in his fingers, calmly examining it with an absent mind. She stayed there motionless for minutes with her eyes closed so he wouldn't think she was awake. She couldn't believe anybody who had slept against this body would ever want to experience sleeping alone again. Olivia sure knew she didn't. The sun had barely begun to gleam against the not-so-opaque white blinds of his bedroom window. It was the prematurity of the morning that reminded her that work was going to be the inevitable end of their glory.

She breathed in silently but so that he could feel her chest expand and know that she was consciously breathing in. Then she got in front of the moment. "How long you been awake," she asked, sleepily, cautiously. He moved his hand to her head and stroked it softly now that she was no longer asleep. "I didn't sleep.'

 _"I didn't sleep."_ What does he mean by saying this? This isn't some statement that stands alone. With Elliot she knows there is always some underlying meaning behind his words. His tone doesn't always match his intended message. She didn't know what to do. It was starting already. He was going to make this difficult and she was going to be the one damaged. Apparently, he'd been awake all night thinking about it, thinking about how wrong it is, regretting it. And even regretting her. He felt the shift in the attitude of her body; her muscles had stiffened and her body was still rather than expanding and contracting naturally like it had been. And so his hand stopped petting her hair. He realized how he must've sounded when he said what he said.  He didn't want to hurt her.

"I didn't," he started but didn't know what he was going to say in the first place. He exhaled desperately before trying again. "I didn't mean anything by that, Olivia." She sighed and twisted her mouth, feeling ashamed and feeling insecure. She knows that if he could go back in time, this would never have happened. She just isn't sure if she would change anything. There was a small piece of her that was selfish and wanted him to explore this new thing they created last night. If he goes back to Kathy the same things would keep happening. Olivia would never leave him, but she couldn't be sure of him when it came to family. He had surprised her before.

"Don't worry about it," she said, sitting up with the covers pressed to her naked torso.

He immediately placed a hand against the skin of her back. She was feeling rejected and hopeless, like she would never have a man in her life that she could rely on outside of work. And that may have just been ruined by the first ray of the morning sun. He couldn't decipher her tension down to all that but he could feel that she was uneasy. That's why he touched her. He needed to reassure her that one way or another they would be in each other's lives. She felt a little better by his knee-jerk gesture, but decided not to get too wrapped up in the beauty of the turn their relationship just took. Beautiful things kill people all the time.

She never looked back at him when he touched her back, just forward at the door, as if she was going to get up and run away. "It's barely seven o'clock," he said, "lay back down." She looked down at their feet poking out the bottom of the cover. His two. Her two. "I'm gonna go make some coffee."

"I don't have any," he said, offended, sensing that she is possibly avoiding not only his eyes but everything else.

"Cold day in hell," she said, sarcastically.

"Freezing," he corrected, setting himself up behind her to the left. He softened his tone, approaching her emotions gently. "Really, Liv. I ran out yesterday morning." He pulled her close to him with his right arm on her right upper arm, rubbing her arm, trying to convey his still alive affection for her. "That's why yesterday was so crappy," he joked, trying to get as little as a smirk from her beautiful, still-glowing face. It worked. He gave her shoulder a peck, which was in and of itself very warming. "Wanna go grab some coffee," she asked quietly. Just as he was opening his mouth to answer her, her phone rang from her pant pocket on the floor. They both sighed, annoyed. It was Sunday morning, both of them had the day off, and that case they just closed two days ago warranted some recuperation time. Elliot leaned out of bed to fiddle the phone from the pant pocket-it was on his side of the bed. "No breaks," he mumbled and handed her the phone.

"Benson... No, I'm wide awake. Where?"

She hung up the phone. Then Elliot's rang. He retrieved it from the nightstand and answered.

"Stabler... Yup... Alright."

He hung up. They sat quietly for a couple seconds, then Olivia finally looked at him. He was looking at her. "Close your eyes," she requested, politely.

"Why," he almost chuckled, amused and confused.

"So I can grab my things and get dressed in the bathroom."

His eyebrows sank down in the middle. Was she being shy? That's cute. He threw the covers from his own body and got up, walking naked to his closet and grabbing some clothes. His back was mainly turned to her, so she examined his body under the yellowing shade of light. His butt looked as firm as it felt last night, the muscles in his back moved carefully with the natural sway of his arms. His shoulders, arms were strong. "I'm gonna take a shower, too," he informed her, turning fully in her direction, displaying his package. She maintained an unembarrassed facade except that she blushed and she knew her face was turning color because she could feel all the heat of her body swish to her cheeks. "You can go home to shower or, ya know, you can do whatever you want." He turned and strode into the bathroom, switching the light on. "Call if you need me."

She could no longer see him behind the cracked door, but she couldn't resist laughing aloud when she heard his pee streaming into the toilet water. She got up, clothed herself, then entered the bathroom, walking through the steamy atmosphere. Before she could call for his attention, the curtain was snatched aside a little and he stuck his head out. It was dripping with warm water, dripping from the tip of his nose, clotting on an eyelash. He was far from perfect to her but, at that moment, he was flawless. He'd been polite, endearing, funny, and unintentionally sexy, hiding his hard body behind the curtain so gentlemanly. The foggy air was no match for his blue eyes, which refused to be obscured in the haze. She looked down at his lips, glossed over from the water, hydrated from the water-filled environment. She started moving her head towards his, hesitating only for a fraction of a second before tenderly closing the distance between their mouths. With this kiss, they were going at her pace. She's the one who introduced her tongue, he only followed her lead and, honestly, he liked where they were going. But they had a crime scene to get to. She pulled away with a "Seeya in twenty." He was left peeking at the ghost of her.

He didn't want to hurt her.

* * *

 **That was just a little something to hold till this weekend. We're having fall break starting, I think, Thursday. Yes! No school! Anyways, always the usual: check out the poll and review. Tell me what you like, what you hate.**

 _ **Happy** **voting**_ and, of course, **_Happy_ _reviewing!_**


	3. Convincing Olivia

**Now they're going back to work the morning after. This should be interesting.**

* * *

Elliot's apartment was only a couple blocks from the crime scene and this was a relief to Olivia who decided to go on foot. The sun was tantalizing as it attempted to thaw NYC. Spring was going to break through soon and this coupled with the memory of Elliot's lips interlocked with hers and his warm body tangled up with hers, his embrace from night to morning kept a slight smile on her face till she ducked under the crime scene tape and saw the blood trail on the light cement. It lead to the door of the warehouse. She knew this wouldn't be good. When she entered she found Fin and allowed him to give her the rundown. "We've got a young boy - about seven years old - all beat up, pants around the ankle, gagged." She nodded with a strained face. It never gets easier hearing the details of a dead child being raped and murdered. She breathed in a shallow breath and said, "Okay. Thanks." But before she could even catch a peak around Fin he stopped her with an arm. She gave him a confused look.

"Liv," he said discreetly, "You might not wanna see him yet."

"What is it, Fin?"

"The bastard gutted him. The poor kid's inside out - I could barely keep from contaminating the scene with my breakfast."

His eyes were sincere and cautious. It had obviously affected him a strong way because she could still see it in his eyes. She could see the horror in his eyes. The boy, his guts staining his power ranger underwear. But she thought she was strong enough after eleven years. She insisted. "I need to see it for myself," she said in a near-whisper. A part of her knew she should've heeded his warning. Because when she saw that boy spilled on the floor in the next room, his eyes permanently open in terror, his mouth crooked because he died screaming she had to run out of the warehouse and release the contents of her stomach, which was only stomach acid. Fin followed her out. He held her hair back as she dry heaved on the curb in front of the warehouse. Her stomach, her innards squeezed and twisted around itself, squeezing anything out that would go. She groaned in pain, dropping to one knee because her legs couldn't bear the pain with her weight. "Damn, you should've had breakfast," said Fin, peeling a stray strand away from her face and adding it to the bunch he had already pulled back. She picked herself up and spat, keeping her hand in a tight fist over her stomach, which was still feeling the pain of the contractions. Fin let her hair fall to her shoulders and she leaned her head back to inhale long and slow and let the sun relieve the skin on her face. "Damned if ya do, damned if ya don't," she replied. She turned back to face him and sighed deeply, appreciating the air she so often takes for granted.

"You okay," he asked.

"Yeah," she said, knowing that she actually would be soon.

"Warner's on her way to do her thing, so you should head to the precinct. Get some coffee in you."

"Yeah," she nodded.

"You need a ride," he asked.

She shook her head. "I'll wait for Elliot."

Fin frowned. "Where is he anyway," he asked, "He should be here by now. I know he can be more punctual than this." Olivia wondered the same thing but still had to come to his defense from the non-threat non-insult inquiry. "He'll be here soon. Matter of fact, I think that's him now, " she said, pointing and blocking the sun from her eyes. Elliot pulled up in his jeep alongside the two. He jumped out and quickly approached them. Fin was a bit annoyed; with a case as horrifying as this one Elliot picked the wrong day to start off on the wrong foot. "Glad you could join us," said Fin. "I got here as fast as I could," he countered, unfazed. Then he noticed how extremely glazed over Olivia's eyes were and how pale her face had gotten. "What's wrong, Liv?"

"After you get a look will you drive me to the precinct please," she asked. No emotion. Just a flat, aching voice. "Yeah. Sure," he said softly. Then he went and had himself a look-see. It infuriated him and that's probably the only thing that kept him from getting sick. He pounded his feet back to the jeep and slid in, his face reflecting how disturbed he was. Olivia was waiting in the passenger seat when he got there. When he started driving she practically hung her head out the window. He'd glance over now and then, sneaking a peak of her hair blowing erratically in the wind. She looked like the air was really doing her good. Her eyes were shut. She sighed.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," he said when the guilt hit him.

"It's fine," she offered, pulling her head back into the car space, "I can't believe I lost it like that."

"I can't believe I didn't. Cases like this I just wanna-"

He stopped. He wanted to see his children, make sure they're safe. Make sure they're all still inside in and outside out. Unharmed and untouched. He wanted to squeeze them to him when he thought about having to find that boy's poor parents and give them the news. When he thought about all the times he's had to do it before. That's the kind of thing that makes his stomach weak. "I didn't want to show up too soon after you. I don't know, it's stupid-"

"Elliot," she interrupted, "I would've thrown up with you there. It's fine."

He sighed. "But are you fine?"

"Yes, I'm fine. My stomach hurts but I'm fine."

"Of course you are."

Soon they pulled up at the station and made their way to the squadroom where the one and only John Munch welcomed them. "Welcome to work on your day off," he called from the coffee machine, "Have yourselves some of this delightful poison. I hear you're gonna need it." He walked to his desk and sat down. Olivia went for her own desk chair, practically collapsing into. Elliot waited. She ran a hand through her hair and tucked the stragglers behind her ears. He was watching her. She seemed tired. He kind of pitied her - a little more than he usually does. "I'll get your coffee," he said, taking off for the machine. She didn't even get to say thank you. She took one last deep breath - she promised herself that this was the last one and with this one she'd suck it up and face the realities of SVU like she always does. Then she looked over at the captain's office door. The blinds were shut and the door closed. She asked Munch what was up. He said that the brass is already breathing down Cragen's neck, given the nature of the crime.

"Great," she said sarcastically, "just what we need. More pressure. Don't they trust that we're already gonna give it all of our energy and brainpower-"

"And time," added Elliot. He carefully set Olivia's coffee down on her desk then his on his own desk. Then he eased himself down into his chair. "I could really use a vacation," he suggested (suggested rather than insisted or proclaimed because he can't deny that he needs work to ground him). "Me, too," proclaimed Munch, typing on his computer. "Me, three," Olivia agreed. Elliot and Munch both shot her a look as if wanting to call her bluff. "What," she asked. Elliot chuckled. "You wouldn't know what to do with a vacation," he answered. Munch laughed in agreement but then Elliot turned the table on him. "You, too, John. Who retires and decides to come back? To Special Victims."

"Alimony, bills, and all the wonderful expenses of living outweigh pension, my friend," he countered, "do youself a favor-"

"What's that, huh?"

"Stay married."

Everything changed in their little section of the room, their two joined desks. He dropped his head a fraction and he could feel Olivia's eyes on him. But he couldn't feel her smiling anymore. He wanted to look up, to survey her face, to send her his familiar face of apology. He wanted to do more than that. He wanted to pull her to him and wrap his arms around her, stroke her hair, and make her know that she's everything to him and without her there could easily be no more Elliot Stabler. But he didn't. Instead he felt her gaze gradually wear. He replied to save face for his little dip in attitude. "Well, that's what most people intend," he said. _Wrong answer._

"Yeah, well, maybe your work's cut out for you. Five kids. There's no easy way out of that." _Very wrong answer._

"You're right," he said with less jester in his voice, "I'd never leave my kids." _Why did you say that? Why?_

Elliot felt like a real dick and he didn't even have the guts to check across from him to get a glimpse of how she was reacting on the inside. Then Cragen's office door opened and two uniformed men walked out. He called Elliot and Olivia into his office.

"You've seen the crime scene, yes?"

The duo nodded. Then Cragen turned his attention to Olivia.

"You okay," he asked, heartfelt.

She lied. She lied for the night before, that morning, that mutilated boy, and for Elliot's responses to Munch. Perhaps she thinks that if she lies about being okay enough she'll start to believe it surely. She's almost there anyway.

"Fin called. Warner's got the body now. He's jumping the list, so be ready to haul tail down there."

They nodded. As they went to leave Cragen ordered Elliot to stay. Olivia gave a concerned look and continued out, closing the door behind her. "How are you taking it," he asked Elliot. Elliot put his hands in his pockets and sighed. "How I always do: I'm gonna get the bastard who did this." Cragen nodded. But then he asked a very serious question.

"How's your marriage?"

He took his hands from his pockets and crossed them over his chest. It was a move of defense and a move of insecurity. He took a breath and replied, "It's, uh, ya know." Captain nodded understandingly. He wouldn't pry into his detective's life but at the same time the man is like a son to him and at least Elliot knows he cares. He dismissed him with an okay and as he turned to leave he said one more thing. "El," he started, "get him good." When he walked out Olivia called out to him, grabbing his jacket off his chair and handing it to him. "Warner's ready for us."

In the elevator Elliot thought it would be a good idea to address her about the comments he made with Munch earlier. "Liv, about Munch earlier," he began but she cut him off saying it was fine. He sighed. She never lets him talk. Really talk. Sometimes he needs to talk to her. Damn her for that. "Okay..." Moments before the elevator door opened he had one last task on his mind, a question he needed to ask her, a proposition, a test to see where her head was. "What are you doing tonight?"

She kept her eyes forward. "Working on the case."

"I mean after that," he persisted.

It got her to finally look up at him. Did she really think she could just forget last night. This morning. Does she even know Elliot? His eyes were soft. It's like he was afraid. He's really at her mercy. She looked stressed. "I don't know," she said and looked straight ahead again. But he kept watching her face - disappointment and disbelief was written all over his. When the elevator dinged Olivia led the way out. He had to stretch his long legs a little bit more to keep up next to her. When they got outside to the squad car and nobody was around he grabbed her arm.

"I'm trying to tell you I'm sorry," he said and it sounded painful.

She made the mistake of looking into those sapphire eyes. She melted under their scrutiny as he examed her face intensely, know he'll get more from her face than her words. He let her arm loose and she used it to tuck her disobedient hair behind her ear. She held his gaze. She couldn't tear herself away. "I'm not upset," she said, annoyed. He let his frustration out in a sigh. "Don't lie to me," he demanded. Then he untensed. He didn't want to sound angry, he has a problem in that area. He needed to sound gentle and heartfelt. He wanted to convince her, not coerce her. "Look, I want us to be the same way we've always been with each other," he pleaded.

"How can we be, El?"

She looked and sounded defeated as she went around him and got into the car. Elliot accepted that he'd lost that small battle but the war wasn't over. He got in the driver's seat and they drove quietly to Warner's. They were both grateful that Warner had his stomach stitched closed. Elliot asked what she had for him. She was sad to tell them there was no seminal fluid, no hairs. But she was able to give them something. "I found traces of maximum power estrogen in his system," she said, "it's like what's prescribed to women who decide to combat early menopause. Except this is stronger."

"Okay. So what does that mean," asked Elliot, perplexed.

"Someone dosed him with a lot of this stuff. More than likely your perp. But I haven't yet determined the official COD."

"Why estrogen," asked Olivia.

"Probably to make him more needy, clingy. Then he'd be compliant. But your perp didn't take into account that this is a child. He probably behaved more to the other end of the spectrum."

"Oh, God," said Elliot, putting the pieces together, "So the boy wreaks havoc and the bastard cuts him open because he can't handle it."

"Maybe the _woman_ cut him open because _she_ couldn't handle it," Olivia brainstormed. Then she looked up at Warner from the boy's face and asked, "You said no fluids, right? And the estrogen pills. It's gotta be a woman then."

"I wouldn't jump to that conclusion too quickly. These pills are prescribed for more reasons than one. It could be a man in transition, for instance. The good thing is these pills run a pretty high bill and they're just out of the experimental phase. They'll be easy to track."

Elliot looked down at the boy's face. "Thanks," he said. Then he added, "Think you can close his eyes?" Warner nodded understandingly. Elliot and Olivia left her to it. Olivia texted Munch about the pills. He volunteered himself and Fin to do that part of the leg work. It was the first time in a long time that Elliot and Olivia could actually sit down and enjoy a lunch, however late it was. He drove them to a restaurant. Italian. "El, what is this," asked Olivia, apprehensive about even getting out of the car not dressed for the venue. He turned the car off and said, "It's DiMarni's." She swung her head to look at him. He unbuckled his seatbelt and mimicked her panicky face, mawking her. Then he straightened his face back. "You look at it all puppy-eyed every time we pass it." She sighed. She wished he didn't pick up on everything she did. She looked back out the window. She really did want to go there. But with a date, not her partner in the middle of the day. "Come," he said, getting out of the car, "I know you're hungry." That was it. She wouldn't be able to refuse. He opened her door and led her into the restaurant. "Stabler, party of two," he told the host.

The young italian ran his finger down the list of reservations. Elliot saved him some time, told him they were early. "Ah," the man said, "Well, we're not busy at this time but your table is currently occupied. Would you like a different table?"

"Yes, thank you."

Olivia was really the only one underdressed, because Elliot always wears a suit. He put his hand on her lower back and proclaimed her more than up to par appearance-wise. "Relax. You look beautiful," he whispered. Unbelievably, she did relax. At the table Elliot watched her intently. She smiled when she noticed and she looked back into his blues. "You're charming," she admitted. He smiled that one smug smile she's become so accustomed to. Twenty minutes into their lunch Olivia felt a shift within herself. She felt compelled by his sweet gestures and efforts to make her feel loved. She had to explain to him why she had been feeling so uncomfortable.

"Elliot," she said, looking up at him, "I have no idea what we're doing or how it's gonna end. But I know I don't want there to come a time where you're not a huge part of my everyday life."

"Don't assume this is gonna end like that," he said, "And this is- this is whatever we want it to be."

"You sound so confident." She looked down at her plate. "I wouldn't count on this lasting much longer than any of my other 'relationships.'"

"We're different," he insisted, "We understand each other in ways it seems nobody else ever can. I was with Kathy for such a long time, Olivia, but I've only known real, unquestionable, heart-on-the-line, willing-to-die-at-a-moment's-notice love on two occasions. The births of my children and every single time your life has been in danger."

Olivia smiled appreciatively. "You know this wasn't supposed to happen."

"Well," he said just above a whisper before clearing his throat, "so do you."

* * *

 **Hope you guys enjoyed this chap. I enjoyed writing it a bit. I didn't really want Elliot to talk so much but considering... I thought it was warranted in order to convince Olivia... or further convince her.**

 _ **Happy reviewing!**_


	4. Lemonrita got me like

**I'm starting this chapter off with some liquor in my system but I'm sure I won't finish it tonight. ;-)**

* * *

Fin and Munch assumed much of the responsibilities for that day. It was only the right thing to do since both Olivia and Elliot hadn't had a day off in six weeks working a case that seemed to itself not want to be solved. But of course they figured it out. That's what they always do.

After lunch they went back to the precinct and worked on one thing that's always there for the procrastinating cop or the lonely cop: paperwork. They were sitting silently across from each other, scribbling this or that on thin slices of paper. Nobody ever really knows what it's about. They just kind of... _know._

Cragen came in from his office and sat himself comfortably on Munch's desk. He had this prideful grin displayed across his wise face. "You'll never guess who's one sheet away from being caught up on paperwork," he said cheekily. Olivia and Elliot joined him in grinning but the chin-wagging rights were all his. "Thought I'd come see what's holding you two crazy kids up."

Olivia dropped her pen and, before sipping her umphteenth cup of coffee, said, "Well, ya know, leg work. They throw that on the younger folks."

Cragen let out an scoff of amusement. "Oh?"

Elliot enjoyed being a simple spectator. Olivia was great in the field and in the interrogation room. But to see her actually enjoy a conversation, to laugh, to smile a whole smile, for her eyes to come alive... his heart felt at home.

"I'm kidding," she giggled.

"No that's okay," said Captain, "this coffee keeps me young."

This time her laugh was hearty. It had volume. It sounded and felt as if it could sustain happiness; it probably wouldn't.

"I actually think this coffee makes us older!"

After the pleasant entertainment died down Captain Cragen dragged Elliot into the mix. He asked about the kids. "They're, well, uh, they're kids," he chuckled, "ya know, I'm just trying to keep 'em outta trouble." Captain nodded; Elliot wasn't being as fun as he could be. Usually he'd come up with at least one story about his intelligent thinker Maureen, his out-of-this-world creator of all things unthought of Kathleen, his clever, sometimes combative twins, or some sort of milestone his youngest has recently crossed off the tiddler to-do list.

"Anything new," asked Cragen, aching for a story from the outside. Elliot has a much different world than everybody else. He's connected to something unconnected to SVU. He has a beautiful wife and five children he'd do anything for. Nobody else has that. He's sometimes seen as the symbol of life before Special Victims. A lot of colleagues think he's found that sought after middle ground - the balance. An equilibrium that keeps SVU and similarly high-pressured divisions from seeping over into real life and real life from dragging him away from the job that _somebody_ has to do.

"I'm happy to report that there has been no disturbances," he confirmed.

He checked in Olivia's direction. She was reflecting the polite smile that Cragen wore. Elliot also wore it. Like a mask. It's as if every soul in the room knew some sort of lie was being spewed but knew not whom it was coming from or what it was about. They just... _knew._

Olivia defaulted to diverting attention away from her partner whom she feared may have been slightly uncomfortable with family questions. It was the elephant in their budding relationship. It wasn't until the car ride to the station that she noticed he was still wearing his wedding band. She accepted that perhaps he hadn't even noticed, but still...

"Don't you wanna finish that one last sheet of paperwork," she asked.

"Not at all," said Captain, rising to his feet and heading for his office, "I'm just gonna stare at it. This will probably never happen again."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

She felt like a child, all giddy and filled with excitement wanting to burst from her lungs as laughter. "I'm trying to tell you how," she said, straining to keep from giggling and possibly embarrassing Elliot. He stopped for a second. "Stop talking," he ordered, "It's distracting me."

She tucked her hands under the pillow her head was so comfortably sunk into. "Take your time then. I'm in no rush." A smirk snuck across her face. She blinked slowly, relishing the moment that would be a memory in her mind forever after tonight. "Just- just- stop trying and you'll get it right," she suggested. He pulled his head up and sighed, extremely annoyed. He put his hand on her lower abdomen, "Just sit still and stop talking."

She bit her lower lip. A burning within began to boil at a low intensity just below her waist. His frustrated outburts are annoying at work. But here, in her dimly lit bedroom, verbal lashing out was a sexy show of dominance. And she desired it here. Still, cockily, she insisted on saving him the trouble and instructing him. "A little north. A little more nor- yeah," she sighed with a sharp intake of breath, "Now use the- the top of your tong-"

He could finish her sentences, predict her next move, and read her body. And, apparently, he can finish her. He dragged the rough of his tongue long and torturously against her clit with a substantial level of pressure. Her hands quickly found their way out from under her pillow; one gripped the covers and the other went to Elliot's head between her thighs. It was okay at first but her nails began to dig into his scalp so he took it in his for her to hold and squeeze. She was overcome with sensation. His lips were witness to the involuntary contractions of her center, yet he continued to whisper to her core. If he hadn't been even slightly familiar with sexual intercourse he'd have been worried about her ragged, irregular breaths but he knew that just meant that after ten humiliating minutes of "warm up" he'd figured out her feminine part. Her orgasmal scream was reduced to a very sensual grunt which vibrated not only her throat but her center as well.

He slid up her body as she sailed into an ocean of passion forgotten to the realities of everyday life. But her body was still aware, still there in the absence of her mind; her arms snaked around Elliot's neck when she felt him over her. He moaned into her ear, his warm breath in her ear, as he slid into her. Then he moved languidly, gracefully in and out of her, girating his hips. The muscles of his back teased her hands. His skin was soon dampened with perspiration but this man, not really knowing how long he'd have this body at his fingertips, willed himself to wait for her to come back to their dimension and cum again. He guided one of her legs up and hooked it to his strong, persistant hips. He kept his hand there, gripping her thigh tightly. Every inch of her was so nice and welcoming of his touch. He kissed her neck and collar. His kisses were open-mouthed, wet and wanting. It felt like she was being eaten all over again - no, lapped up. He did everything right. All she had to do was lie there and receive. He filled her, every secret corner of her, centimeter for centimeter. He didn't miss a spot, he hit every spot at just the right angle and with the right intensity. She was dying beneath him as the room shattered before her eyes. Her squeezing around him stole his willpower from the fronds of his loins. Olivia's walls literally squeezed his ejaculate from his member. He pulled his head from her neck and groaned loudly as he emptied his chambers inside her. He had actually planned to pull out, but there they were, his seed inside her, the risk of their little _thing_ skyrocketing. Nonetheless, he could only focus on her body against his. Her breasts rapidly rising and falling against his hard chest but never losing contact in some magical way. Whether or not the repercussions of fragments of his being spilling into her soft body would materialize into an extremely complicated sitation was now beside him because Olivia's body was beneath his and he'd easily choose to make that a normalcy. This woman, Olivia, _Liv,_ whom he'd witnessed grow in numerous ways, was now a part of him and forever was gradually becoming a possibility.

* * *

 **It was Lemonrita that I had. Perhaps that is why this fic took a turn for the lemony. Anyway, hope y'all enjoyed it. Consider it a treat or whatever. A real chapter will be coming soon enough.**

 _ **Happy reviewing!**_


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